The Essence of Noah (Muslim story)

Station

"Yeah, yeah. Pick me up at the train station at nine AM."

"I have a lecture at eight can't you get a taxi?"

"Are you freaking kidding me? I spending all my money to come visit you and you can't do me the favour of picking me up? Screw you." I laugh as I shift against the counter.

"Fine."

"Whatever."

"So I'll see you tomorrow?"

"I don't even know if I want to come anymore."

"I'll see you tomorrow." With that I hang up, suddenly more excited for Monday to come.

~*~

My alarm echoes throughout the mostly empty apartment as I blindly extend a hand to switch it off. The crustiness in the corners of my eyes start to melt when I stare at my overly bright phone screen that makes my eyes water in irritation. It's the third time I've hit the snooze button for my fajr prayer, and I can feel a headache sprinting to the front lobe of my brain as I try to will myself up.

I can picture Baba stumbling tiredly into my room, speaking awfully loud as he turns on the light and shakes me awake. When I close my eyes and remember, it seems so vivid, so real, that for a moment I feel like I'm back home and that any minute Baba will walk in and turn on the light and tell me to get up.

'Al salatu khairun min al nom'.

That's what he would say. He'd call it out from my door and as he'd get closer he'd whisper it to me, softly, letting it sink in as I start to wake myself up. Now, with Baba too far away to whisper it to me, I whisper it to myself; creating a chant in my head. I repeat it over and over for a while as I lay on my back, my hair sticking to my neck from the heat.

My alarm sounds again, cutting off my rhythmic chant and blasting me into reality. Tiredly, I huff and push the covers from my body as I partially roll onto the cool hardwood floor from my mattress. The sensation of the wood almost burns against my warm legs as they stick to it like a sweaty adhesive.  I reach for my phone and turn off all the alarms set at five minute intervals. I'm awake now, and I doubt in this heat I'll be able to fall back asleep comfortably.

I pray, and sit on my mat staring at the purple morning sky that's welcoming the first rays of sunshine. I try to ignore the light I can see pooling onto Noah's balcony floor. For some reason, I'm overly interested in what he does so early in the morning. If anything, him reading a seerah has inspired my curiosity in him more. It makes me wonder why someone like him, so purely Aussie would be reading a seerah, but then I remember his interest in non-fiction and reading biographies, and any suspicion is shot down in my mind.

I sit for a while on the ground, the long prayer thobe forming a tent around me and spreading around evenly on the mat. My knees start to ache and my toes become numb and I decide to get up and get ready to pick Evan up from the station. I stand and grab the mat, though as I do, I notice Noah walk out onto his balcony. His bare feet flat on the cement, wearing pyjama pants and a plain white t-shirt. His hair seems scruffier than usual, seeming like he only just woke up, with a white bowl in his hands.

I watch as he balances the bowl on the thin metal banister and leans against it. He eats calmly as he stares out at the sunrise. He doesn't move or do anything else. I can't see his face, but he seems so blissful as the first rays of light shine around him and pour over his hair, giving him a golden glow. I almost want to walk out onto my balcony and join him; to stand there and seem as calm and content as he is at this moment. Something within me wants to feel that, to welcome that kind of sensation, but given the circumstances and the awkward encounters, I just fold my mat and walk back to my room.